Vital
by HappyEverAsher
Summary: Five years after the Reach Invasion, America is far from its golden age. Prejudice against Metahumans is commonplace, dividing society into two factions: the privileged Purebloods and the second class Metahumans. Follow Ash as he must decide whether to continue barely surviving in the slums of Gotham City, or to stand and fight the sole ruler of America: Vandal Savage.


Vital

In times like these, one rreminisces on how the slaves felt, being taken from their homes in Africa and sent to be worked to death on the plantations of colonial America. During the early 21st century, racism and prejudice had all but disappeared. The Justice League, and all of its subsequent heroes, had been major proponents of equality among all peoples who called this little blue marble of ours home.

"How had it all gone so wrong?" asked Asher to himself as he waited in the dark of _very_ early morning outside an unmarked warehouse sitting squarely on the docks of Boston. Asher, or Ash for short, had opted to take the position of lookout for this heist. Ash had no false ideals when it came to things of this caliber. He didn't have the heart or the instinct for theft...but he knew how important it was for us to get these supplies. So, to support however he could, he chose to be the lookout.

Ash waited patiently as he could in the bushes, watching the road that ran perpendicular to the warehouse. He didn't suspect that the authorities would show themselves tonight. Crime wasn't just the norm in the slums of Gotham, but it had become commonplace since the Bat abandoned the city.

Pressing the talkback button on his walkie-talkie, Ash called out to his compatriots in the warehouse. "How's it comin' y'all?" he whispered.

"Still lookin'," responded Calvin, the muscle for this job. Not being a particularly big guy, he was a skilled boxer. However, that's not what made him the muscle; the fact that he had one of four guns in all of Gotham City that didn't belong to the government. The old Colt had been a family heirloom that had saved his, and our, skin on more than one occasion. "How's it going out there?"

"Good. Nothing happening."

"Great. Oh! We just found the crates. We'll load it up as fast as we can."

"Cool," Ash said quietly, tugging at his collar. The mere reminder of the thing caused him to sigh frustratedly. Oh, how he wish it didn't exist at all. Unfortunately, as is now mandatory in this day and age, inhibitor collars were clapped around the necks of every single metahuman, whether they have a dominant meta-gene or not. The government owned Metahuman Enforcement Tactical League, or METL, had taken over responsibility for monitoring and policing all metahumans in the United States.

Had it not been for the Reach bringing metahumans into the public spotlight, life for those who lived in the slums of Gotham would be drastically different. Back before the Reach, inhibitor collars only elicited a strong shock that would knock their metahuman unconscious.

Not so, nowadays. The inhibitor collars, which effectively suppressed Ash's abilities, also threatened to kill him and his friends...his family, should he step out of line too far or attempt to remove it. The standard issue inhibitor collar had just enough explosives to effective and efficiently kill the wearer, but not harm any "pureblood" humans that may be nearby.

That's what this _damned_ country had come to. In five _long_ years of fear, it had efficiently undone every bit of good since the Emancipation Proclamation, and ushered in a caste system so devoutly followed, that Ash himself hadn't actually seen a metahuman ability being used in four straight years...save for his own special circumstance.

Purebloods and metahumans. That's what this country has come to. A country of hate, fear, bigotry, and prejudice based on little more than the single man that ran the whole country: Vandal Savage. _And to think,_ thought Ash, _none of this would have happened if it wasn't for the Justice League._ Ash remembered when the Justice League had been the whole world's beacon of hope, justice and equality from back when he was a kid...but now, it's whole legacy had been torn down and and viciously desecrated, paving the way for the world of hate that Ash lived...no, was _trapped_ in.

Ash sighed, shaking his head to knock loose this dreary line of thought when his walkie-talkie gave a concise _beep_. "Yeah?" he responded.

"We're all loaded up," replied Calvin, knowingly waiting for Ash's coming response.

Ash looked around, taking his time to make sure he saw every nook, cranny, and shadow in the open parking in front of the warehouse. After checking twice more to be adamantly sure, Ash pressed the button on the walkie-talkie, "The coast is clear," he said.

Ash immediately heard an engine roar to life and the massive metal doors of the warehouse slide up with the pulling of chains. He knew his role. He immediately broke into a sprint, emerging from the bushes, _away_ from the truck that was emerging from the building. Ash made his way down to the docks, and ran along the embankment along the rushing water, quickly scaling the single chain-link fence in his way, promptly making his way into the next lot over before heading for the main road. Ash checked both ways before crossing the street and turning right, away from the warehouse.

Ash then slowed his pace, falling into a routine that he'd become very familiar with: blending in and not being noticed. Ash listened as the truck pulled onto the road, turning sharply to the left, away from him, as had been the plan.

He had been making good time, following the harbor road on foot, and was nearly to his destination when he heard something that made his heart absolutely _drop_. The familiar roar of the truck's engine, along with police sirens, pierced through the night as Calvin and his crew fled as best they could from the GCPD; a good six cars in pursuit.

Ash watched, eyes wide in shock, as time seemed to slow to a crawl. He locked eyes with Calvin, who was leaning his whole upper body out the driver side window, shooting the Colt at his pursuers. He knew that look. He'd seen it far too many times.

The truck and the police raced by and all Ash could manage to do as his heart was gripped with fear for his friend. "Godspeed." he whispered, a small prayer to God to bring them to safety, but even he, for all his good natured hope, knew that it was futile.

Ash watched as the truck was blindsided by a large Tactical Assault Vehicle at full force. The truck never stood a chance. It was forced violently over the guardrail and into the Gotham harbor. Even as it was sinking, the GCPD had pulled up to the embankment and immediately opened fire with their assault rifles.

For two straight minutes, Ash watched in horror as his friends were murdered in front of his very eyes. When the gunfire stopped, one officer pulled the pin on something in his hand before lobbing it over the bulk of the truck, making it land just in front of the cab...where it promptly exploded in a show of flames and water.

They had thrown a grenade into the water...for good measure.

Ash looked away, breathing through his nose so as to not vomit at the horror. He swiftly turned towards the alley he'd been charging for, pulling aside the loose plank of wood in the fence that blocked it off.

Ash turned back a moment, sending a silent prayer to God to welcome his friends into heaven; he knew that they had the faith, same as him...but still. He turned his back to the horror and plunged himself into the darkness of the alley...the darkness settling in his heart.

2


End file.
